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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944824">Scars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersCurse/pseuds/WintersCurse'>WintersCurse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Aurora Cycle - Amie Kaufman &amp; Jay Kristoff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bullying, Child Abuse, Death Threats, Literally guys it's just entirely angst and violence, Neglect, No fluff here sir, Physical Abuse, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:13:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersCurse/pseuds/WintersCurse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes anger can't cover up the pain</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Very very angsty, please head the tags</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything stung. </p><p>The thin sheet that brushed against the tiny cuts on Kal’s arms didn’t keep out the cold or the noise. It definitely didn’t do anything to force down the sickness that caught his heart and his breaths. </p><p>And as he curled up smaller, his ribs digging into his growling stomach, the tears only threatened to come too soon. </p><p>It was a cold night. Bone achingly cold. </p><p>But his father wouldn’t permit any sign of weakness, and warmth wasn’t really necessary, anyway. </p><p>And right now his father was yelling. Screams and taunts and insults that crashed against Kal’s ears and dug at his heart even though they weren’t meant for him. </p><p>The brief silences were worse. </p><p>The silence had every bruise on Kal’s body aching in sympathy. </p><p>Parallel rows of bruises down his back that had burst into wounds hurt the most. But the mottled purple and black under his collarbone, down his sternum, and around his ribs had him wincing every time he moved too much. The cut around his temple was still wet, and his mouth tasted of copper. </p><p>The worst bit was hearing Saedii crying through the thin wall that separated them. </p><p>She didn’t cry in front of people anymore. Once upon a time she would’ve snuck into Kal’s room and they would’ve given each other shadow puppet shows as a distraction. </p><p>Not anymore. </p><p>Saedii didn’t show her hurt to anyone. Not Kal, not their mother, and definitely not their father. </p><p>Pain was a weakness by itself, but asking for help was an even worse sin. </p><p>But when the footsteps and yells slammed around outside Kal’s door, it took everything he had not to give into the pain. </p><p>He wanted to curl up or cry or fall to his knees at his father’s feet. </p><p>There’d been such pride in his father’s face when Kal had refused to kneel earlier that day. </p><p>But disobedience was just as punishable as weakness. </p><p>Kal tried his best not to flinch when the door slammed open. </p><p>The anger in his father’s eyes was blinding, jaw clenched tightly. </p><p>And when he dug his nails into the side of Kal’s face and smiled that cold little smile, Kal couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. </p><p>*** </p><p>The yelling in the corridor shouldn’t have made his hands shake. </p><p>It shouldn’t have made his heart skip beats, or his breath catch, either. It shouldn’t have let images of his father force their way into his brain or the ghosts of past injuries dance across his body. </p><p>But it did. </p><p>“Pixie boy!” One of the Terrans yelled. </p><p>He was shorter than Kal, but broader, with curly green hair and a busted lip. He had the advantage of someone who would never get in trouble and he knew it. </p><p>A blond Terran grabbed at Kal’s hair, yanking back hard enough to send flairs of pain through Kal’s scalp and pulses of anger through his veins. </p><p>He didn’t show the hurt.  </p><p>The last Terran grabbed at his wrists and twisted them behind his back. His nails dug in tightly. </p><p>Kal tried to push down the panic and the burning anger, replace it with cool anger. Unfazeable. Cold. Violent. Precise. </p><p>But that was hard when green head was staring at him with unhidden malice and it was starting to get hard to breathe. </p><p>The Terran spat on his face. “Syldrathi scum. We don’t fucking want you here, do we boys?” </p><p>“No!” The Terran who had his wrists said far too cheerfully. </p><p>He wasn’t the brightest crayon, apparently. </p><p>The blond Terran whispered at his ear, breath like tiny knives. “I say we get rid of him entirely. Who would notice?” </p><p>No one. </p><p>No one would notice. </p><p>And if someone did, they certainly wouldn’t care. </p><p>Kal twisted, elbowing dull crayon in the ribs. Forcing his hands free. </p><p>Knocking him to the ground. </p><p>But the blond pulled harder on his hair, nails scraping against his neck. </p><p>A sinister scrape of metal, and a cold blade pressed against Kal’s throat. </p><p>It dug in, sending little bolts of panic through his bones. The rage disappeared to thin panic. </p><p>“How does it feel to know you’ll soon be dead?” green whispered. “Like all of your kind should be.” </p><p>The knife pushed harder as blondie tugged his head right back with his hair. </p><p>This was it. He’d escaped his father, the destruction of his planet, to be killed by a couple of Terrans. </p><p>And as the knife dug in deeper and Kal’s vision fluttered, he couldn’t even find the desire to fight it. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Someone yelled from down the corridor. </p><p>Blondie dropped the knife, grazing Kal’s chest and leaving him gasping. </p><p>“Commander!” Green said shakily. “We were going to get a drink and Kaliis just attacked us!” </p><p>“You boys run along now, I’ll be around if you need anything. Gilwraeth,” the commander’s face turned grim. “If it were up to me, you’d be long gone pixie boy. We don’t want Syldrathi attacking and corrupting our innocent cadets.”</p><p>There was no point in arguing.</p>
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